


SIgns

by Scedasticity



Series: Crossover Sburb Sessions [13]
Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - SBURB Fusion, Gen, throwing you in the homestuck deep end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-10 18:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scedasticity/pseuds/Scedasticity
Summary: "They said it was always supposed to happen this way."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I sketched out classpects for a Dark is Rising SBURB session, then decided that would be too mean after they went to all that trouble saving the world, and shelved it. Then I reread _The Dark is Rising_ and found it _much_ creepier than I remembered, and not because of anything the _Dark_ was doing.
> 
> And, you know -- children being railroaded into serving the purposes of great cosmic forces while being convinced it is some combination of their own idea, their destiny, or necessary... that's very familiar. So off the shelf it came.

Jane had turned her walkie-talkie off.

She had agreed, along with everyone else, to keep it on. It had been an enormous relief when Barney sent the code around and everyone was able to alchemize one — before that if anyone was out of hearing distance of the telephone in 'their' house there was no way to get in contact with them. (Only Barney, Bran, and Mary Stanton were actually based in their own houses. Jane considered herself fortunate to be in the Grey House in Trewissick, as at least she'd spent plenty of time there — Simon was in an old house that had belonged to their late paternal grandparents which he'd never been to before. It had a telephone as there had been renters, but it also had rats.) It had made for some nerve-wracking periods when out-of-house quests took longer than expected and others spent _hours_ wondering if something had happened.

So the walkie-talkies were a good thing and she was very glad to have them. But the way they worked everyone could hear what everyone else said, all the time.

And she didn't really have any interest in listening in as Simon, Bran, and James Stanton argued and argued and argued and _argued_ about how to score their ongoing underling-killing competition — how many imps equalled an ogre, or a giclops, had anyone else even seen a 'giclops', were they sure they were real, yes they were sure, Simon could tell a giclops from an ogre, if they weren't going to believe each other about what they'd seen how would they believe each other about counts, well grist showed the counts, not if you spent it, wait do underlings which produce different grist count differently, maybe they should, but do we apply it retroactively, well we'd never be able to calculate that, and on and on and _on_. Although it had been sort of funny when Mary had weighed in on the giclops existence argument and rather than taking her brother's side had said she'd killed one the day before.

And Jane didn't think bouncing worries off each other about what had happened to the family members kidnapped by underlings — taken to Derse, but were they _all right_? — was actually making anyone feel better. Especially when people got defensive about their failure to prevent it.

But what was worse was— 

Well, everyone being on one radio channel _was_ a good time to ask Will some pointed questions about never having mentioned having _magic_ , and a variety of weird things he'd said during the chaotic several days of the game starting.

Most notably variations on _"I know you can't remember any of it and I'm sorry but please trust me"_. 

Everyone could agree there had not been time to explain then due to _meteors_ , and trying to get magic game boards to synchronize when no one understood how any of this worked, and Will dragging Bran off into the Welsh mountains or bringing Jane to Trewissick and then _jumping into the ocean_ in pursuit of something to _stop_ the meteors. (It hadn't worked, but trying was good.) But there was time now.

And Will had explained, sort of. _"There was a… a sort of… It was the struggle between the Light and the Dark, the very end of it, and you helped fight it. They… they took your memories, afterwards, so you could live normal lives… I have magic innately, so I… couldn't. Your great-uncle Merriman was — he was the last of the six, but he went away with the other Old Ones afterwards, so it was just me left."_

And then James had burst out with a question about whether all this had anything to do with the weirdness around Will's eleventh birthday, and Will had clammed up completely. He had not explained some allusions to Bran's birth parents made during the mountain excursion; he had not explained why it made sense for Jane in particular to be in Trewissick; he had not answered any questions whatsoever from his siblings; he shut down any discussion of _restoring_ anyone's memory.

Jane didn't blame the others for being upset. She was a little upset, too. He did owe them a more thorough explanation. She thought it was reasonable for Simon to investigate using his 'Hero of Mind' powers to restore memories. But the way Bran, Simon, and James started arguing over which of them had the most right to be angry at Will about all this—

She wasn't sure the others understood just how thin Will was worn, was the thing. She'd been the last to enter the Medium. Will had come to the Grey House in Trewissick after failing to stop the meteor that came down on Bran's house and everything around it, hollow-eyed and sooty and with filthy (half-burned, _blood-soaked_ ) clothing he'd only remembered to fix after she'd reacted in horror.

"I couldn't stop it," he'd said, when she'd asked what had _happened_. "So it hit me."

Then he'd said, very calmly and reasonably, that she should contact Mary and start the magic to take herself and the Grey House away. He would go and try to find people who wouldn't ask too many questions or get in the way, to ride along, for the sake of saving someone, and then when it was time for her to enter the game he'd go.

"Go _where_?" Jane had demanded.

"I… I don't… I'll… I'll keep trying to stop them, I suppose. The High Magic didn't say I couldn't _try_ …"

Jane had insisted he should come. He was their friend. Even if he wasn't a player and _expected_ to be there, they _wanted_ him to come, not stay behind to be — repeatedly killed by meteors! He'd refused. Said it wasn't his place. He was the last Old One and his duty was to stay in the world until he was called away and he hadn't been, and the High Magic wanted the game and the meteors to happen, so this must be how it was supposed to be.

If Mary Stanton hadn't called and reported her parents and older siblings had been kidnapped by imps and James was useless and someone needed to _do something_ Jane didn't think she would have been able to talk him around.

By the time Jane had started the game properly and they'd met up with the others, Will's thousand-yard stare hadn't been as bad. But she didn't think that meant he was all right, or that it was a good idea for him to be listening to everyone being mad at him.

And Jane didn't want to listen to it either, so she was hunting imps with an oar with her walkie-talkie off. Which really was a bad idea.

* * *

Going to Derse had seemed like the best solution.

As far as anyone knew all the people kidnapped from the players' houses should have been taken there. 

Will wasn't sure if breaking them out immediately was the best idea — between them they'd picked up enough neighbors and such that they had a total of nearly fifty people. That was an awful lot of people to lead back through the sequence of transportalizers Will had taken to get here, and far too many to even consider flying back, which was his backup plan if access to any transportalizer was blocked. It was a lot of people to protect if the game tried to take them back again, which seemed likely considering that underlings still hadn't stopped trying to grab Will. It was also potentially an awful lot of questions neither Will nor any of the players could really answer. _Will_ didn't think "the High Magic says this was always supposed to happen" was a _remotely_ adequate explanation, and he already knew what the High Magic was.

(Even setting aside how hard they'd fought the Dark only for the _world to end_ barely years later, and that was a lot to set aside — even accepting that on faith there was the _board game_ thing, which was… Will had no explanation. He wasn't sure there was one.)

At any rate even if he couldn't rescue them he could verify that they were all right. Maybe talk to them, tell them _something_.

And he could try to get a look at the Black Queen — see if he could get some idea of what they'd be dealing with. Will wasn't sure how much he'd be allowed to help before the game penalized the players (he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be here), but he could offer scouting information at least?

_And_ Derse was far enough out that if anywhere was out of walkie-talkie range, it was. He hadn't checked. They were magic walkie-talkies with an absurd range anyway, so they probably _did_ work, but it was plausible that they wouldn't.

(It wasn't that he didn't want to restore his friends' memories. He did. Very much. And it wasn't as if living normal lives was going to happen _now_. He just wasn't sure he could.)

(He _could_ most likely reverse the alterations to James and Mary's memories, since he'd done half of them himself anyway. But _that_ , he didn't want to do.)

(He'd refused to give up the Signs for Mary's life. It had turned out all right because of Merriman, and Will had hoped, but he hadn't been _sure_. He would have let the Black Rider kill Mary.)

(That made him a good Old One, but an awful brother.)

(He didn't want them to _know_.)

So going to Derse seemed like a good idea. At least until he looked up.

o͉̱͚̰̱l̩̱͉̩d̡̟͈͇̤̻̮̝ ̶͔̯͓̬͙͙o̴̬̣͎̹̭̟̩ǹ͕̺͎̪̬̮e̯̞̫͢

 

He'd been hearing whispers at the edge of his mind since entering the Medium, but Skaia was considerably louder, so they hadn't really registered until now.

w͙̣̥͓̻͇ḛ̫ḽ̹c̪̩̝̩o͉̟̦͚͙̕ͅme̢͕͍̖͚̫͍ͅ ̗̩͍̘o̢l̵d͔͖̜̜͙ ̫̟̙̲̤̜͙o̼ṋ̳͙̣e̵

 

He'd wanted to call them Dark at first, but they weren't — just terribly, terribly alien. They belonged outside time, outside _everything_. Even here in this… weird artificial place between universes, they were at the outskirts.

w̲̜͖̻e ̨̲h̷̰͔̗̫͙a̧v̫̩e͏̯͖̻̞̲̳ ͓̜̗͎̀b̵̺̲͕̼̭̦̠e҉̘̻̦̭̺̱e̙̘n͟ ̧̪̩w̸͎̭ą̯̘͎̣͎͎i̘t͉̱̙͉ḭǹg ͔͔͡f̪̗̩̣ͅo̳͚̩͡r̸̝̹͓̳̟ ̩͓̭̝͙y͇̖͕̥ơ̙u̖

He should have expected to hear them more clearly on Derse. He didn't think he could reasonably have predicted they would be whispering _specifically to him_.

y̫̫͈͉̤̙͜ọ͚͍̜͕͜u̥̹̬̥͝ ̪̤̭̮h̩͉͇͙ͅa̫̘̝̦̕v̤̱̗͓̥̗͜e̳̟̯͖ ̮͎m̛̹͈̠̻̖̼̱a̺̼̟n͠y҉̳̪̥̥̝̝ ̸͇͈͈̦̜̱̥q̥͎̭u̙͚̹̖̪e̮̰͎̝̞st̷̹i̲̤̘̦͈͜ͅo̶̺n͙̤̝͢s̤̤͝ͅ

 

That was true but—

_Pain._

—But standing in a Derse street staring at the sky was a good way to get stabbed in the back, apparently.

Will started to reel away, only to be stabbed twice more in rapid succession, then grabbed by the shoulder and spun around to see a furious-looking Dersite Agent. And get stabbed four more times.

Will tasted blood and his knees buckled. He wasn't going to heal fast enough. Well, at least it would probably make the Agent leave him alone. He hit the street with his hip, then his shoulder, and then he was lying there watching his own blood pool around him. In the weird light, against the purple street, it looked black.

He'd died before, on Earth, when he failed to stop a meteor. Twice. It had been painful, but not as painful as the knowledge of failure, and then… quiet, mostly, until he'd revived in the crater.

This time was different.

 

w̶̤̘̪̬̞̪͈̮͌̂̈͊̄̋͝e͉̺̻̠̱͉̻͛ͯ̏̍́͘ͅl̝͈̞̦̮̻̇̃̅͐̾ͩc̙̫̩͎͉̒̀̃̎̎ͅö̯̠̣̤̞́̒͡m̒̄ͮ͗ͣ͌̉͒ͦ҉҉̝̪̱͔͚̼̪̞̥e̷͍͇̜͖̪͎̺͌̏͌͠ ̲̙̦͖̮̖̜̜̩͗̔́h͉̥͕̩̟̜̊̀͡oͧͫ̋̓̈̒ͩͫ҉͎̲̹̳̥͚̳̠m̶͖̰̜̼̩͛͛͗ͭ͒ͧ͜ͅẽ͋͐͏̛̛̹̬͉͎̺ ̱͔̹͖͓̓ͅo̳̟̘ͮ̂͛̄ͥ͗̀̽ľ̘͖͔̭́d̯̪̲̦͈̾̀ͪ͛͋̆͐̐̕ ͙̼͇̋̀͗ͮͯ̇̕̕ͅǫ̧͋̆͏̗̙ņ͎̥̬̖͎̦̔͆͜e̒̒ͥ̔͏͖̰̜

* * *

Jane called Barney on the phone when she got back to Grey House. She probably should call Bran — she was his "server" player, and she really should check in with him. She'd just… talk to Barney first. See if she'd missed anything important while she had the walkie-talkie off. Maybe see if he had an assessment of Bran's mood.

(The "server" board, laid out on a table Jane had dragged over to be near the telephone, held a replica of the Davies home, stretched unnaturally upward with the additions she already made. The board itself had started out a bland green lawn-color, but had turned slate-gray with sparkling blue dots after Bran's house had been transported to the Land of Thrones and Meter. Whenever she wasn't watching, or failing that when she blinked, the 'grist' boxes filled by themselves based on what underlings Bran defeated.)

"You turned off the walkie-talkie, didn't you," Barney accused immediately. "You're lucky no one asked you any questions."

If no one had asked her any questions, then either he was guessing or he'd seen her in the clouds during his Prospit dreams. "After a while, yes," she admitted. "I'm impressed you didn't. Did they ever agree on what a giclops was worth?"

"They agreed to leave it undecided until everyone had seen one personally."

What a reasonable conclusion. Shame they couldn't have come it it earlier. "And… did they ever agree on who got to be angrier at Will?"

"Agreed to leave it undecided until Simon finished his method to restore everyone's memories," Barney replied. "Although mind you I'm not sure he was telling the truth about how close he is to figuring it out. He may just have wanted to stop the argument because it was really sort of shading into a weird fight between Bran and James on who had more of a claim on Will, period, and he didn't want to agree with either of them." He sighed. "At least until the end of the day when Mary got back to their house and found a note Will left implying — we think, it was vague — implying he was going to Derse."

"He's _what_?"

"Gone to Derse. We think. To scout. And he's still radio silent. So now Mary is _very_ angry at him, for worrying her, but also… worried. And Bran and James are pretending not to be worried, so they're acting angrier."

"Not Simon?"

"Oh, Simon is on _Mary's_ side. I don't care what he says, he has a crush."

Jane considered this. "Please don't take this personally, Barney, but boys are stupid."

* * *

ŵ̞̠͓̰̻͐h̙̬̰̦͇̪̖͕́̍͢ͅa̶͔̤͖̥͆ͪt̤͍̦͛̄̎̎̆͌̔̔ͬ͞ ̪͕̀̑̑̾̔ͧͦ̄d̸̢̤̝̖͇̥͉̙ͩͬ̎ͦ͛̈ͦ͢i̧̳̹͋ͤͬd̯̑́͋ͬ͞ ͉̘̀̐̇̓̽̓͠y̴͎̲͕̙̰̦ͥͧ͌̌o̿͒̾͗̍̍̑͐͏̪͚̠̪͙̹̖̣u͖̠̖̔͝ͅ ̵͍̬̘ͥͭ̍̈́ͪ͐͘͢ͅt̟̲͕ͬͦͨ̀͑̄ͧḣ͌̾̂ͦ҉͏̞̲͓̠͕̱͔ỉ̡̦͚̫̜͎͖n̵͑̈̋̃̈́ͬ͞҉̦͔͍̫̣̮̭͔̳k̖̙̱̟̩̝̯̿ͦͪ̎ͅ ̤͓̫̻̗͚̔̏̽̏́͜͟͞ǫ̶̺͙̬̳̩̹̲̉ͨ́l̦̺̠̝͐d͙͎̞̙͗̏́̓ͯ̊̾̓͝ ̢̜̰͖̾ͪ̒o͐̌ͯ̐̀͘͏̮̦̝̻̤̻͇͟n̶ͥ͏̯̞̫e͎̞͊̔͋̉͛̓̈̀̕ ̰̄̋̊ͮ́m̷ͦ̓̋͒̄̀̒͌ͪ͏͖̩̞͎͙ȩ̭̹ͥ̉̓́͠a̖͈̣͐̎ͨͧͫ͐̾̈̇n̶̜̩͉̖̥̺̙̋̀ͧ͑͌ͅt̢̳͉̫̜̱̰̙̆ͤͣͤ

* * *

(to be continued)

* * *

Simon, **Mage of Mind** , Derse dreamer, Land of Night and Riddles  
Bran, **Prince of Time** , Derse dreamer, Land of Thrones and Meter  
Jane, **Rogue of Life** , Prospit dreamer, Land of Locks and Seaweed  
Barney, **Heir of Space** , Prospit dreamer, Land of Ink and Frogs  
James Stanton, **Knight of Breath** , Prospit dreamer, Land of Pipes and Cyclones  
Mary Stanton, **Sylph of Blood** , Derse dreamer, Land of Knots and Timber


	2. two weeks

"I think I'm going to need your help," Simon said. "With the memory restoration."

It was about three days since he'd promised he could do said restoration, three hours since Grey House had been built up to the second gate and a full circuit of planets became easy, and thirty minutes since he'd come tromping down the stairs into the kitchen without calling ahead and Jane had hit him in the face with her latest oar. (This one had a ship's-wheel decoration on one side of the blade that dealt extra damage! Fortunately she'd hit Simon with the other side.)

(Three days since anyone had heard from Will.) (He was fine, surely. He was magic. When he'd extended a hand at imps and told them to _stop_ they'd spontaneously crumbled, not even leaving grist behind. He'd stopped two meteors from hitting in Buckinghamshire. He'd _survived_ larger meteors hitting when he hadn't been able to stop them. …Sort of survived.) (Surely he was fine.)

"My help?" Jane said.

"Life is for healing," Simon said. 

Hence her ability to patch him up after hitting him with the oar. (Though even considering that, she thought it hadn't hurt him as much as it should have to start with? Nothing here made sense.) "But that's… Isn't memory more of a mind thing?"

"A mind thing, but not particularly a capital-m Mind thing," Simon said. "Apparently. Some of my research is indicating that what we _really_ want for this is a hero of _Light_ , but we don't have one of those, do we. I'm going to have to jerry-rig something up. If the memories are just blocked, not removed completely, I think you should be able to… heal them back?"

Jane wasn't sure how she'd even start trying to do that. "What if they _were_ removed completely?"

"Well… Skaia knows what happened, right? It must. I'm hoping that if all else fails we can pull the information out of there somehow."

In random order from a third-person perspective, probably. Jane hoped the memories were just blocked. "I guess I'll… try to work on more abstract versions of Life powers, then? Unless you want to try it now?"

"Would you try now?" Simon asked. "Even knowing it's a long shot… I think — we _need_ to know what happened. The wondering about it is — we need to know."

That made sense, but… "This is sounding less like you need my help and more like you need me to do it."

Simon folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them. "More like I'm _hoping_ you can do it. I'll figure out something if you can't, but…"

"All right," Jane sighed.

She looked at the top of Simon's head, and wondered how to apply Life to something as intangible as a memory. A _missing_ memory. It wasn't like looking at rising bruises and just knowing she could push some power in to make it better.

…She could just push some power at his brain and see if anything happened?

"Simon? There's something I can try. I'm not really sure what it will do, though. And I'd have to try it on you."

"Try it," Simon told the table.

So she concentrated, and pulled in just a little of the ambient wellness from everything (not enough to do any damage), and pushed it at Simon.

"Did you try?" Simon asked. "Because I don't feel any—" He broke off, then raised his head and straightened up abruptly. "Great-Uncle Merry."

"What?"

"He was— He was gone suddenly, there wasn't a funeral or anything, I'm not sure anyone ever even said definitely he was _dead_ and we all just didn't care."

"I cared," Jane objected, because she always cared when elder relatives passed away.

"Not as much as you should have," Simon said firmly. "We all should have been devastated. And we weren't. We just let it go. And — Will _mentioned_ him, even, and it never even occurred to us to talk about it with each other—"

That _was_ a little odd, actually, now that he mentioned it… "So… did I restore your memory?"

"I'm… not sure. I still don't remember magic, I don't think I'm remembering anything new, exactly, I'm just not — slipping off things anymore? Like there were things I hadn't forgotten, but something was keeping me from thinking about them?"

"Huh," Jane said. "Sorry it didn't work better…"

"No, this is good," Simon said. "I think with some more of that we'll at least be able to see where the holes are."

"Oh," Jane said. "Good?" She started to get up, but dropped back into the chair hard when her knees refused to cooperate. "Whoa."

"Jane?"

"I think — I'm tired," she said. "From using the Life powers, I mean. It was a lot more draining than just healing physical stuff has been." She wondered whether that was because of the mental aspect, or because she hadn't had any idea how to aim?

Simon frowned. "Guess it's out of the question to immediately go try it on everyone else, then…"

"I think so, sorry," Jane said. "There are probably some quests which should strengthen my powers…" She hoped, anyway.

"Drat. I'd hoped we could at least get Barney and Mary…"

Jane gave him a dubious look. "Barney makes sense, since he's the best at pulling information out of the clouds… Why Mary?"

"Well… she's the oldest, you know — and she really feels like she should know more about what's going on, and it's only fair she at least get her _own_ memories back…"

"Uh-huh. Nothing to do with the way her sweaters fit."

" _Jane_!"

* * *

Barney stared at Skaia's clouds and willed them to show something other than Bran and Simon fighting an extremely large underling. It hadn't happened yet, he didn't think — no one had fought anything quite that large, he didn't think — but he was sure they'd handle it. He was watching for other things.

—Not the past, actually, which seemed to be what everyone else was generally hoping for when cloud-watching.

Barney was still trying to decide how best to describe what it was Jane ( _not_ Simon) could do with their memories. It was like besides the forgetting, there was a layer of… not caring about it, that discouraged them from even noticing anything was missing. And that was what they could reliably get rid of. (Maybe because that was something added, rather than taken away, it was easier for Jane to fix? Or because it was still actively doing something?)

After Jane completed a quest involving healing salamanders affected by some sort of poisonous mold, some of the… whatever they should call it… also seemed to restore the actual memory. Not all of them, but some of them.

…The pattern was a little hard to figure out since things between Simon and Bran and James were still sort of tense and so people weren't being as free sharing information as they _might_ be. From what Jane had picked up, it seemed like mostly the memories came back when specifically Will had been involved in blocking them. (Jane had suggested maybe this was because Will didn't really _want_ to erase their memories; James had retorted spitefully that maybe he just wasn't very good at it.) Sadly this mostly meant remembering a lot of little weird things that might have led them to ask questions, rather than remembering the actual epic events they'd been involved in.

Even when all that happened was exposing the holes in their memories, though, Barney could go to sleep, wake up on Prospit, look up at Skaia, not even at any particular cloud — and everything would come flooding back to him.

He wasn't sure how much of that was being the Space player and how much was whatever… innate talent he had that had gotten him kidnapped to scry for evil painters. He was sure it was a mix.

Barney had only told Jane, so far, because he really needed to be spending time catching frogs, not getting interrogated about a very complicated story he didn't even know all of.

He'd need to tell the others eventually, he knew. Unless Jane found a way to get everyone's memories back.

The cloud with the giant underling fight drifted away, and was replaced by one showing what seemed to be a heated argument between Simon, Jane, and Barney. There was a lot of angry gesticulating, but he still couldn't guess what it was about. It was the future again — he could see the Land of Ink and Frogs out the window behind them, and they hadn't had any fights like _this_ since the game started. 

This might have been useful if he _had_ been able to tell what it was about, but it still wasn't what he was looking for.

Wasn't _who_ he was looking for.

Will had been missing for over a week, now. The clouds stubbornly refused to so much as show him in the _past_.

* * *

Bran initially didn't have a whole lot of interest in waking up his dreamself because wasn't playing the game while awake bad enough? He didn't think a few hours of _normal_ sleep was so much to ask for.

He changed his mind and started trying a little later because it would obviously be easier to search Derse starting from Derse's moon rather than starting from the Land of Thrones and Meter. Bran was angry about the memory wipes, sure, but Will was _missing_. James could claim as much as he liked that Will was just trying to avoid explaining anything — Will wouldn't have dropped out of contact completely, and they all knew it. The least they could do was look.

Unfortunately that didn't make him _able_ to wake up his dreamself. He just ended up sleeping longer than he planned and falling behind in underling-killing.

Then eventually Barney admitted that watching Skaia actually from Prospit's moon had been giving him a lot of insights about… the memory-blocked things, and suddenly everyone wanted to wake up their dreamself. Which didn't at all translate into actually being able to do so — even Barney flying over and trying to shake Jane or James awake apparently didn't translate into a guarantee of waking up — but at least Bran wasn't the only one oversleeping now. 

So he was actually quite surprised to open his eyes to purple. He hadn't had any different ideas to try…

Still, he was here now. He could try to wake Simon up, maybe, but after that he was just going to head for Derse.

(He didn't know what he was expecting to find from a trail cold for two weeks, but then he didn't know what he'd been expecting to start with—)

Bran started to climb out his window. It was a long way down, but he should be able to fly. Look down, look up—

gr̵e̕et҉i͢n͞gs pen͝dr̀a̡go̕n͘

He woke up in the Land of Thrones and Meter, and remembered _everything_ about his past. Everything. His mother, his _father_ — his other father — why picking up a sword inside the game had felt so _natural_ — _Mrs. Rowlands_ — and _Will_ , his wizard — how could he not say something — _where was he_ —

What he _didn't_ remember was enough dream to account for the three hours that had apparently passed, or anything to explain the nebulous sense of dread he was feeling.

He'd looked up, and — _something_.

* * *

Jane woke from a sound (and sadly still not Prospit-involving) sleep at the Grey House telephone, and tripped over two spare oars and an ill-advised experimental alchemized boat-bicycle-roller-skates abomination trying to get to it. "Hello? Simon? Barney?"

"No, it's me," Mary said. "Can you please get here? To my planet?"

"Um — yes, but — did something happen?"

"Will crashed through the porch roof," Mary said, voice high and fraying. "And now he won't wake up."

**Author's Note:**

> (I fully intend to write this to some sort of conclusion but if I do not please rest assured that all is resolved in everyone crying it out over hot chocolate and they all feel much better afterwards.)


End file.
